


Avoiding Like the Plague

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [35]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 15:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16601069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: It was a good thing the doctors were cutting him loose because Stretch was getting pretty damn sick of this. Pun intended.





	Avoiding Like the Plague

* * *

“if you try to carry me in the house, i am ripping your arm off,” Stretch said sullenly. He looked out the window, settling deeper into the passenger seat of Edge’s car as he watched the scenery turning from a blur to their own driveway as they pulled into it. 

The doctors had still been pretty fucking grudging about letting him go, but Stretch was sick of it, sick of lying in bed, sick of Monsters whose names he barely knew coming in to prod at his soul, sick of his brother trying to feed him and tucking blanket after blanket around him. Sick of Edge giving him looks like he was a two-step away from either dusting or falling down. 

Yeah, that look, that one right there. 

“Love, you—”

“if you _try_ to carry me in the house, i am ripping your fucking arm off and _beating you with it!_ ” Stretch said, louder. “you can help me in, that’s it.”

“Brother, be reasonable,” Blue chided from the backseat. “You’re still not well.”

Stretch resisted the urge to bang his head against the window. Why did people keep telling him that? It wasn’t like it as a fucking mystery; he knew he was still recovering, he knew that he felt weak, that standing too long made him shaky and a little nauseous. 

“i am walking from the car to the sofa, not running with the olympic torch,” he gritted out. “this is as reasonable as you’re getting.”

Blue let out a long-suffering sigh, one that brought back far too memories and it grated across his nerves. 

Edge only nodded in agreement, “All right.”

Impatiently, Stretch waited as Edge walked around the car to open the door for him. He didn’t wait a second longer before climbing out of the car, barely hesitating long enough for Edge follow him.

Edge’s hand was gentle on his elbow, not holding him up or guiding. Only there, support if he needed it, nothing insistent or forceful in his grip. Much as he didn’t want to, Stretch found himself having to lean into his grasp halfway to the porch. Spots were wavering in his vision by the time he made it to the sofa. He flopped down on it with relief, sprawling into the familiar cushions. 

It was automatic to reach for his cigarettes, only to have them plucked away before he could even pull one from the pack. His nicotine-deprived magic cried out in despair and Stretch whined, “aw, come on!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Blue scolded. “None of this, you need to take better care of yourself!”

“bro…” Stretch groaned, watching mournfully as his precious cigarettes were tucked into a drawer that Blue firmly closed. He bit his tongue, tasting bright magic as Blue came back and started pulling off his shoes.

“All right, let’s get you settled,” Blue fussed with a pillow, urging Stretch to lean up enough to tuck it behind his back and spreading out a blanket over him that Stretch promptly shoved down enough to free his hands. Stretch could only inhale slowly, letting it out as Blue fretted and rearranged. He loved his brother, he did, but what he really wanted was for his bro to go the hell home.

“We’ll get you some orange juice—” Blue prattled on.

“i don’t want any orange juice,” Stretch muttered.

Blue went on blithely as if he hadn’t spoken, “And then you can take a nap—”

“i’ve been sleeping for four days!”

“You should change first, though, let me get you some pajamas and I’ll get a cool cloth for you. Stay there, I’ll be right back!” Blue said brightly, bustling into the kitchen. 

Stretch slouched down into the pillow, and his inner heat wasn’t from a fever but from silent frustration. If Blue would only fucking _listen_ …

Edge was still standing at the end of the sofa, his hands tucked in his pockets. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the smooth white bone of his forearms that ended at his gloves. Normally, that would have stirred him; he liked those bones, liked tracing the faint scars that crisscrossed them. Whether it was his lingering illness or his growing exhaustion that didn’t allow him even that, Stretch didn’t know, but he did know it was fucking annoying. 

“what?” Stretch snapped when Edge only looked at him.

“Do you want me to ask him to leave?” Edge said evenly, “Because I will.”

“...what?” Stretch blinked, taken aback, “no, he’s my brother, i…” Stretch swallowed hard, sagging back into the pillows. “it’s fine.”

Edge hummed softly and moved to sit on the floor next to him, his long legs stretched out as he leaned in, taking one of Stretch’s hands gently in his own. His thumb stroked softly over his knuckles, lingering over his wedding band. Edge still looked tired, his sockets shadowed. “He’s railroading over you.”

“i know…it’s…he worries,” Stretch looked down at their joined hands and sighed. 

“He does. We were all very worried about you, love. You were very sick,” Edge only looked at him steadily. “I have never felt so helpless as I felt in that hospital. Not knowing if you…I was worried.”

“sorry,” Stretch said, thickly. All the more reason to let Blue have his way, wasn’t it? His weak HP should be his own problem and somehow, it tainted everyone’s lives, interrupted them, caused them pain. “i’m so sorry."

Edge hushed him. “Don’t be ridiculous, it wasn’t your fault. My point is, we were all worried about you. But you’re perfectly capable of making your own choices and if you want me to ask him to leave, I will.”

He shouldn’t. He was the elder brother, he was supposed to be the strong one. Bad enough that he couldn’t even manage that. He should let Blue have this, he should—

“I know you hate this,” Edge said quietly. He picked at the corner of the blanket covering Stretch but made no attempt to tug it back up from where Stretch had shoved it down. “I’m going back to work tomorrow and I will check in with you no more than once every two hours by text message. I’ll be leaving some easy to warm up meals for you. You, for your part, will promise to call me if you need help or if you start feeling worse so I’m not coming home to you running a fever or collapsed on the floor.”

Stretch cringed with guilt, he knew he should have called before his fever had gotten so bad, “i didn’t mean to—”

“I know that, love,” Edge glanced at the kitchen door. “Hush, now.” He pushed Stretch gently to lay back, “Close your sockets.”

Bewildered, he did, and heard Blue coming back out of the kitchen. “Here we go, I—”

“He’s already asleep,” Stretch heard Edge say in a hushed voice. 

“Oh,” Blue faltered, “Well, let me just set this down.” There was a faint clatter of dishes, soft footsteps coming up next to him. 

“Why don’t I run you home?” Edge said. His tone made it less a question than a statement. “He needs his rest.”

“Oh, but I could help you!” Blue protested, lowering his voice when Edge hissed softly. “You’ve been gone for days! I’m sure there’s laundry, dishes, all sorts of things that need done!”

“There’s really nothing to do,” Edge said, firmly. “Papyrus has been coming over to care for things. Blue, you’re exhausted, you won’t be helping him by making yourself sick.”

“I know,” Blue sighed. Weariness was heavy in his voice. “I was so worried. He hasn’t been sick like that in a long time.”

It was so difficult to keep his sockets closed, hearing his brother’s voice break slightly. There was a rustle of clothing and Stretch dared to peek out to see Edge kneeling, his arms around Blue.

“He’s doing much better,” Edge was saying quietly “The doctors said he’s recovering very well and so long as he takes it easy for a little while, he’s going to make a full recovery.”

Blue nodded against Edge’s shoulder and Stretch’s soul clenched to hear a quiet sniffle. “You’ll make sure he does?”

“Of course,” Edge told him, quietly assuring.

He could nearly feel Blue’s uncertainty. “Maybe I should take tomorrow off and stay with him,” Blue started, and Edge cut him off, gently. 

“No, I think it’s best you go back. Better to get back to normal,” Edge said firmly. “You know that I’ll take care of him.”

“I know. All right,” Blue said, finally. Stretch could hear rustling, the both of them putting on coats and boots. There was a gentle clack of teeth against his forehead, and a soft whisper. “Sleep well, brother.”

He heard the door close and he could breathe again. 

With a groan, Stretch pulled himself upright long enough to rummage through the drawer, snagging out his cigarettes and pulling one out. A flick of his lighter and there he hesitated, looking at the wavering flame. With a disgruntled sigh, he flicked the lighter closed and tucked the cigarette back into the pack, tossing both on the coffee table with a clatter. 

There was a tray sitting on it, holding a glass of orange juice and water, along with medications that doctors had given them before they’d left the hospital. He opened each bottle methodically, taking a pill from each one and swallowing it down with a gulp of orange juice. The remote was in reach and Stretch flipped on the television, turning to the Great British Bakeoff.

He’d just settled into an episode he hadn’t seen when Edge came back in. He hung up his coat before coming over, his eye lights skirting over the medicine bottles and the half-drunk orange juice.

Gently, he stroked a hand over Stretch’s skull and if there was a subtle press of the inside of his wrist against Stretch’s forehead, that was all right.

“I’m going to make a few lunches for you, all right?” Edge asked quietly. “Call me if you need me.”

“i will,” Stretch said. He hesitated, then mumbled, “thank you.”

It earned him a gentle kiss, Edge crouching next the sofa and cupping his face in his hands as he stole it. He drew back, his thumb tracing the curve of Stretch’s cheekbone. “Try to rest?”

He nodded, meekly, and Edge went to the kitchen and left him alone with friendly British chatter. Exhaustion was beckoning, the collection of medications kicking in, but Stretch resisted it, watching the slow progression of a genoise sponge. He’d sleep when he was ready.

-finis-


End file.
